Page 39 of The First Best Man

Now, I’ve been kissed before. Sloppy, unpracticed kisses that left my teenaged-self gagging when a tongue jabbed the back of my throat. Sweet, yet devoid-of-passion pecks from blind dates when I was in my early twenties. But nothing I’ve experienced before this moment has prepared me for the burst of need that explodes inside me at that first gentle pass of Tucker’s lips.

Lightheaded, I slowly respond, allowing his lips to lead in this slow, tender dance. Firm, yet somehow soft, his lips brush against mine again and again as his hands move to my waist, squeezing it like he’s afraid I might run.

Like hell, I will.

I’m not going anywhere because this is quite possibly the best, most exciting moment of my life.

Then his tongue swipes over my lower lip, and my mouth opens at the shock of it. Tucker tilts his head and pushes his tongue inside, and my heart races even faster than before. A quiet groan rumbles out of him when my tongue meets his, and I pray my inexperience isn’t blatantly obvious.

I’m spiraling, the heady feeling of being held and kissed by Tucker consuming me, completely. But then he backtracks, closing his mouth and pressing several more gentle kisses to my lips before releasing me and stepping back with a sigh.

“I should go,” he whispers, the words laced with disappointment.

All I can do is nod, and he smiles at my stupefied state before leaning back in to peck one last kiss to my lips.

“Goodnight, Kate.”

“Goodnight,” I say, finally finding my voice.

Then he’s gone, and I’m pretty sure I lose consciousness for a few moments despite still being on my feet. One second, he was standing in front of me, and the next he’s gone, the house is still and quiet, and I’m completely alone. Like I’m missing a few moments of time.

Snapping out of the daze, I look around the kitchen. Everything is clean, as is the back patio, so I heave a sigh and turn off the lights. I might as well go to bed. I don’t know if I’ll sleep after replaying the last few minutes over and over again in my head, analyzing every second, and wondering if I did something wrong that made Tucker leave so suddenly, but I can at least try.

Heading to my room, I grab some clean underwear and pajamas before heading into the bathroom. I hop into the shower to wash away the chlorine, sunscreen, and sweat of the day, and when I’m clean, dry, and dressed, I walk over to the bed where I dropped my phone on my way through the room.

My heart skips a beat when I see a text from Tucker.

Tucker:Thanks for an amazing day. I particularly like how it ended.

A thrill shoots through me at those words. Maybe Ididn’tdo it wrong. Maybe Tucker just didn’t expect anything more than a kiss from me tonight. I tap a reply out, then frown at the words.

Me:You’re welcome, and thanks for coming.

Thanks forcoming? Yeah, no. That definitely didn’t happen. I quickly delete the message and type out a new one.

Me:It ended too soon.

I stare at those words for a long moment, my heart pounding with fear at how he might take them. Do I sound flirty? Or desperate?

“Screw it,” I whisper, then tap the icon to send the text before I chicken out.

I pull back the covers and climb into bed to stare at my phone without blinking as my anxiety strengthens. Seconds tick by, and I start to type out “just kidding,” or something equally lame, then my fingers freeze as a new text comes through from Tucker.

Tucker:Believe me, I could’ve spent the entire night kissing every inch of your body, but I didn’t want to push too hard.

Holy shit.The image those words conjure has me squirming. Oh, my God, are we sexting right now?

Hell, if I know. It’s not like I’ve ever sexted. Should I ask what he’s wearing?

“No, stupid,” I mutter.

Tucker:You still there?

“Shit,” I whisper, and quickly tap out a response.

Me:Yeah, I’m here.

Tucker:You okay?

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